


Erased

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Partial amnesia, There's a reason Eska isn't mentioned, Unfortunate Implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:05:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: There was just nothing. Little pieces of void creeping around his brain when he was tring to recall something. Mornings with big or small chunks of black between events, conversations of lost words, smiles to no one. A head on his shoulder, reading to the air.





	Erased

Wilbur Franks remembered working at Joey Drew Studios.

He remembered his brother Wally with Thomas Connor, one of the mechanics, and Shawn Flynn, his love, his light.

He remembered Joey Drew and Henry, whose lastname he could never catch.

He remembered Sammy Lawrence, the head of the music department, Johnny at the organ, Susie Campbell and Allison Pendle who voiced the characters and Jack Fain, down in the sewers, writing lyrics.

He remembered the poor soul who had to be the accountant, Grant Cohen, Niamh O’Flannel with her stomping feet, the mountain of a woman that was Lacie Benton helping “the great” Bertrum Piedmont building fabulous rides for a giant theme park.

He remembered Norman Polk, most observant man on Earth, and Kim “No Bones” Grosso whose crush a certain Irishman kept on trying to make him confess.

He remembered the Studio with all of its weirdly named floors, the animators hurting their wrists to finish their work, the pipes leaking ink, the band playing, the assembly line moving, the octopus ride acting up, the Bendy cutouts’ constant wide grin, the posters of the cartoons’ success, the break room that smelled like coffee and tea, the roof on which he’d locked himself once.

But there were parts of days he couldn’t bring back from his memory.

There was just nothing. Little pieces of void creeping around his brain when he was tring to recall something. Mornings with big or small chunks of black between events, conversations of lost words, smiles to no one. A head on his shoulder, reading to the air.

Hands holding him in desperation, too light to be Wally’s, too dark to be Shawn’s, and sockets glowing with color that washed away in white, on the verge of mad tears.

He simply couldn’t remember.

He never understood the tears that swollened Niamh’s eyes every now and then, nor the uneasiness of others when faced with the silence in the vents.

He never understood why people would call loudly for someone and then stop, realizing a mistake, or why Joey locked himself in the office to sob curses.

He never understood why the dreams that faded as soon as he opened his eyes made him cry so loud he’d wake up Shawn.

There was just a tiny detail he remembered, a small image that divided his untainted memories from the ones plagued by black spaces.

A little thing that kept him up at night without him knowing why, a lump in his throat that caused him to sob quietly although he couldn’t figure out the reason.

A pair of bare feet in the dark, dangling back and forth, back and forth.


End file.
